


The Cobblepot Family (snap, snap)

by spicywatson



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Addams Family AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dancing, Established Relationship, Family, Fluff, Inspired by Addams Family, Intimacy, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Romance, basically ed and oswald being super in love, kind of???, thompkean is canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27015919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicywatson/pseuds/spicywatson
Summary: “Look at him. My dear Oswald,” he breathes, just to himself, if only to relieve the wonderful swelling of affection in his ribcage, “I would die for him. I wouldkillfor him.” He chuckles and sighs deeply. “Either way, what bliss.”
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot & Edward Nygma, Oswald Cobblepot & Gertrud Kapelput, Oswald Cobblepot & Martin & Edward Nygma, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 22
Kudos: 91





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> I finally watched the Addams family and naturally this happened... 
> 
> I just chose a few scenes to write, so they are all connected but there's no continuous plot really. Enjoy <3
> 
> Amanda_Xu has translated this fic into Chinese! Here is the link: https://gunquxuexidexx.lofter.com/post/1e537102_1cafaae45

Van Dahl manor slumbers atop the misty gray hill, settled among bare trees with twisting black branches and tall, spindly blades of grass. The slowly-rising sun glows white behind the watercolor clouds, the shadow of the house stretched out under its growing light, yet all the inhabitants of the mansion still sleep like the dead. All except one.

Edward (Cobblepot-Nygma, thank you very much) wraps his silk robe tighter around himself as he pads silently through the dim, dusty halls of the manor, carefully avoiding the mice scurrying about. The portraits lining the walls seem to blink sleepily at him.

He reaches the first door, one of polished black wood, and he pushes it open, wincing as it creaks. Through the morning’s darkness, he can just barely see a little form on the bed, rising and falling with each even breath, tucked away under a mound of blankets. Ed smiles. Martin is still fast asleep, he’ll give him more time to dream of blazing fires and triumphant revenge.

On to the next door, this one more faded and splintered. When Ed turns the brass knob and steps into the room, he’s not at all surprised to find a lamp still glowing warm yellow from last night. His mother-in-law Gertrud has fallen asleep in the rocking chair, hunched over her knitting, her long, frizzy hair tangling around the needles and cascading over her knees along with a stream of wool yarn. Ed will leave her be; she’ll likely wake and fuss over her family any minute now anyway.

He reaches the last door, tall and magnificently carved from rosewood, and he allows himself in with a deep intake of breath.

His heart simply can’t be still.

There Oswald is, Ed’s beloved, his one and only, laid out delicately upon the bed, like the most stunning and deadly of birds, like a trap luring Ed with gleaming black feathers. His pale, glowing face rests almost hidden among luxurious fur and velvet throws and the folds of his long, lace dressing gown. Ed takes this quiet moment to gaze upon him, to take in his dark, silky hair, his arched eyebrows, his flawless lips. The image burrows to his core and lives there.

“Look at him. My dear Oswald,” he breathes, just to himself, if only to relieve the wonderful swelling of affection in his ribcage, “I would die for him. I would _kill_ for him.” He chuckles and sighs deeply. “Either way, what bliss.”

Those dark lashes flutter and reveal pale green eyes, beautiful and sharp as crystals.

A slow smile pulls Ed’s lips, and he perches beside his love, takes his cold hand and kisses it relentlessly. “Unhappy, darling?”

Oswald hums and stretches, like a viper uncoiling. “Quite,” he says sweetly. “Ed?”

“Hmm?”

“You and I… _egymásnak szántuk._ ”

Ed’s heart leaps and his blood runs burning hot. “Oh, Ozzie,” he purrs, “That’s Hungarian.”

“ _Igen._ ”

“ _Mon amour,_ you know that gets me hot under the collar,” he growls, leaning down and claiming Oswald’s lovely lips. Truly the most saccharine of poisons, a pure honey stinging his tongue. He parts from his mouth and trails countless kisses along the elegant curve of his jaw and the long arch of his neck, making sure he grazes his teeth across that delicate skin just so slightly. Oswald gasps under his ministrations.

“Ed, darling?”

“Yes, my love?”

“You were rather… unhinged last night. Like a vicious, howling creature. I must admit I was a tad bit… frightened. Do it again?”

Ed laughs, a joyous bursting in his chest. He falls down into the plush bed with his husband, his heart, his everything, gathers him up in his arms, and kisses him deeply, breathing his passion into him. 

“Only for you, my Oswald.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "egymásnak szántuk" = "intended for each other"
> 
> "Igen" = "yes"


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“He has my father’s eyes,” Ed comments with a fond smile, pride surging within him._
> 
> _Oswald hums happily and strokes their baby’s soft hair. “Edward, take those out of his mouth.”_

Today is a glorious day, a day which all the world and the heavens seem to rejoice. As he approaches the darkened manor and lowers his umbrella, Ed takes a moment to gaze up at the misty gray sky, the falling raindrops painting his cheeks and slipping down his glasses, and he smiles. Lightning seems to cut through the sky and burst brightness all in celebration of this wondrous event: the day Ed and Oswald bring their new baby son home.

As rain patters against the window panes, the family gathers in the parlor to admire the yet-to-be-named Baby Cobblepot, curled up in his cocoon of black lace blankets. Gertrud coos incessantly and waggles her painted nails across the little one’s face, her bracelets a clinking cacophony which earns an enraptured gaze from him.

“He has my father’s eyes,” Ed comments with a fond smile, pride surging within him.

Oswald hums happily and strokes their baby’s soft hair. “Edward, take those out of his mouth.”

“ _Kis drágám! Olyan édes, hogy csak megehetném!_ ”

“Not if I eat him first, Mother,” Oswald chuckles, “Martin, darling, put those matches down and come say hello.”

Their older son abandons his little tin carton of gasoline (his favorite toy these days) and sulks down the stairs and over to his father’s side, looking equal parts petulant and suspicious. Ed only hopes Martin isn’t assuming he’ll have to die now that a new baby has taken his place. There’s certainly room in this family for two criminals in the making- the more the merrier, Ed thinks. But judging from the boy’s scowl as he leans over the bassinet, it seems Ed and Oswald will need to remind him of this.

Oswald strokes a hand through Martin’s curls and the little grimace softens. Perhaps he will be alright, after some time.

Ed brushes a hand across his husband’s back. “Oswald, _mon amour?_ ”

“Yes, _kedvesem?_ ”

“I think it’s time I show you the nursery. I know how impatiently you’ve waited,” Ed stretches a hand out to Oswald, who gathers up the baby in a bundle of lace.

Gertrud immediately squawks, her hands flying out to latch onto her son and grandson. “Wait!” she cries, her eyes growing round like cloudy blue marbles, and she throws open her chest of knitting supplies. She rummages about for a moment before snatching up a little wad of yarn and unfurling it for Oswald to see. “For baby!”

A striped onesie, raggedly knit together but complete and suitable for their child. Ed counts three legs on the outfit (or perhaps two legs and room for one tail) and chuckles warmly. Oswald gasps in delight.

“Oh, Mother, _ez tökéletes! Köszönöm!_ ”

“ _Természetesen,_ my little Kapelput,” Gertrud whispers, and she cups Oswald’s face in her hands sweetly.

“ _Szeretlek._ ” He kisses her rosy-painted cheek and accepts the knitted onesie, then adjusts his hold on his son and tips his chin up at Ed, gesturing for him to lead the way upstairs.

\--------------------------------

Ed guides his husband slowly down the shadowed hall, Oswald taking careful and deliberate steps forward without ever lifting his eyes from the precious baby cradled in his arms. As they close in on the baby’s room, Ed is practically bouncing with anticipation at Oswald’s side, the excitement bubbling and overflowing in his chest.

“And now, _mon amour,_ I present to you: the nursery.” Ed opens the door with a theatrical flourish, and at his husband’s hitching intake of breath, he grins, pleased and shark-like. He had spent many nights toiling away in this room, crafting the perfect nursery, shooing Oswald away each time he asked for a look. Now, _finally,_ it was glorious enough for his husband’s attention.

“Edward,” he sighs, mystified, “It’s dark, it’s depressing, it’s desolate…”

“Perfect for our child, yes?”

Oswald shares a fond gaze with him. “It’s a dream,” he murmurs. And he leans up into Ed, minding the baby snuggled between them, and kisses him with a devotion and desire barely restrained. Ed will never tire of it. He presses another firm kiss to Oswald’s lips and one to the baby’s forehead for good measure.

“Come, _mon amour,_ I’ll show you around.”

He leads Oswald across the creaking hardwood floors, to the tall, frosted windows adorned with heavy velvet curtains, to the bookshelf stacked with literature describing birds of prey and anatomy and other grim topics. Oswald will enjoy rocking the baby to sleep with such a story.

They continue on, past the cobwebs Ed left to collect in the corners of the ceiling (which he found to be rather fitting with the rest of the decor), then pause to admire Ed’s hand-painted murals which stretch across the walls all around the room. Gotham’s skyline, packs of rabid rats, scrawled question marks, birds with magnificent wings, among other designs beautiful and dreadful. Oswald reaches out and brushes his fingertips across the image of five sharp-beaked penguins huddled on an ice floe.

“ _A családunk,_ ” he whispers to himself, and he withdraws his hand and strokes their baby’s cheek.

Ed allows him a moment longer before gently guiding him onward to the center of the room, where the bassinet rests below a twinkling mobile of silver knives.

“Oh, Ed,” Oswald says as they slow to a halt, “the Cobblepot family crib… wherever did you find it?”

“Your mother kept it tucked away in the attic. I had to chase away a family of possums that was living in it, but it’s good as new!” Ed chirps, patting his hand on the black canopy.

Oswald carefully lowers their son into the crib and Ed gives the mobile a little spin, the blades glinting and clinking like a wind chime as they circle round and round. The baby’s eyes flutter, and he can hardly resist the thrall of the knives which lull him back to sleep.

The two parents tuck themselves into each other’s side, their arms winding around each other like slow-moving vines, holding them firmly together. Outside, the rain continues to drum against the shingled roof of the manor and glaze the windows. The beginnings of thunder roll and grumble somewhere beyond the blurry clouds.

Ed sighs happily and presses his cheek to Oswald’s temple, both the murmur of the oncoming storm and the sight of their baby sleeping before him filling him with indescribable contentment. “Welcome home, my son,” he declares proudly, and he feels the reverberation in Oswald’s chest against him as his husband chuckles.

It truly is a beautiful day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:   
> "Kis drágám! Olyan édes, hogy csak megehetném!" = "Little darling! So sweet, I could just eat it!"
> 
> "kedvesem" = "my dear"
> 
> "ez tökéletes! Köszönöm!" = "It's perfect! Thank you!"
> 
> "Természetesen" = "Of course"
> 
> "Szeretlek" = "I love you"
> 
> "A családunk" = "Our family"


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“How long has it been since we’ve waltzed?”_
> 
> _“Oh, Ed,” Oswald gasps, his eyes alight, “ _Hours._ ”_

“Ozzie.” 

“Hmm?”

“How long has it been since we’ve waltzed?”

“Oh, Ed,” Oswald gasps, his eyes alight, “ _Hours._ ”

Ed rises from his place at their reserved table as the other guests pour out to the center of the room. “Shall we?” He looks particularly dashing tonight under the subtle glow of the chandeliers, dressed in a double-breasted striped suit with a velvet-red rose pinned to his lapel, a smile in his warm brown eyes and his arm held out for Oswald to take. So gentlemanly. Oswald couldn’t possibly turn him down.

Ed swings him out wide, holding his hand like it’s the most precious porcelain as Oswald rounds to take his place before him. A smile graces Oswald’s lips when Ed laces their fingers together, and when Ed’s other hand slips around his waist to bring him flush against him.

The first burst of the violins sends them on their way, prancing across the gold marble floors of the ballroom. Over Ed’s shoulder, Oswald spots their son Martin hovering over the dessert banquet, their baby son held in Gertrud’s arms as she sways from side to side, and his friend Barbara, who’s visiting from the inner city, dancing with her wife Leslie.

Ed keeps a slow pace, minding Oswald’s leg like he always does, and he holds onto Oswald firmly so that he doesn’t fall. Maybe Ed thinks little of it, but to Oswald it means the world.

They approach the side of the room where Gertrud and their two children await, and Oswald blows his mother and baby a kiss and gives Martin a little wave, although the boy is distracted trying to ignite a cream puff. Oswald doesn’t miss the way Ed cackles at their son’s mischief, clearly satisfied with the destructive skills he’s managed to pass on. Ed will surely impart the same knowledge on their new baby the instant he can understand a single word. It makes Oswald both roll his eyes and feel his heart squeeze.

Ed nuzzles his cheek to Oswald’s. “You are simply exquisite, _mon amour,_ ” he purrs, the vibration in his throat and chest so thrilling that Oswald’s heart cannot be still.

“I could say the same of you, _kedvesem,_ ” he responds breathlessly. It earns him a kiss to his temple.

They circle round and round, past the row of tall, arched windows revealing the indigo sky, the pale crescent of the moon just beginning to glow, the sparkling city of Gotham against the darkening horizon. A memory glimmers in Oswald’s heart as he gazes out at his home stretched before him.

“When we first met, it was an evening much like this. Magic in the air.”

“I could never forget, beloved,” Ed murmurs, and he brings their joined hands to his lips and presses a quick kiss to Oswald’s.

“An open grave. It was my first funeral. I put him in the ground, you know.”

The smile Ed offers him in return can only be described as proud. “You were breathtaking. Pale and mysterious. I don’t think anyone even looked at the corpse. I certainly didn’t.”

Oswald dips his head and blushes under the flattery from his husband.

“Do you remember what you said to me?” Ed extends his arm as he twirls Oswald in a slow circle.

He remembers the rain sprinkling his skin, the chill in the air as gold and brown painted leaves fell underfoot, the warm presence of a tall stranger beside him. “You’re standing too close,” Oswald chuckles as he’s pulled back to his husband. He presses his hands to Ed’s lapels, happy the warm heart beating within is his, all his.

“I couldn’t believe the sharpness of your tongue,” Ed laughs.

“You can’t get enough of my tongue.”

Ed hums and leans down, lips parting, and Oswald meets him enthusiastically, with little care to the other guests watching their passionate kiss. This is their home, after all, and Oswald will show his love for his husband if he pleases.

“It was a long while before I saw you again,” Ed says, “It was like, all that time, I was holding my breath waiting. Wondering.”

“When we saw each other again, you saved my life. In more ways than one.”

“And you saved mine, when you hit me in the face with that door,” Ed bares his teeth in a wide grin.

Oswald strokes his cheek. “Not my finest hour, perhaps. But all the hours after that…” Longing aches in his heart.

“Chinese takeout. Drinking wine out of beakers.”

“Me, keeping you from leaving for work in the morning. It was far too warm under the covers.”

“Playing the piano together so that all of Gotham could hear.”

“And that evening we spent together with dear Mr. Leonard,” Oswald reminds fondly, sparing a glance at the plum-purple gem glittering on his finger.

Ed takes Oswald’s hand, soft lips brushing against his ring, making his heart flutter like bat’s wings beating in his chest. “You bewitched me. I proposed that very night.” Ed turns his hand over and tenderly kisses his palm.

“It feels as though our wedding was only a night ago,” Oswald replies wistfully.

“The beginning of a wonderful life with my one and only.”

“And two children. And my mother.”

“I wouldn’t change a thing, Ozzie. To live without you, only that would be torture.”

“A day alone, only that would be death.”

And as the final notes are struck, the last graceful sweep of the bow across the violin and the last stroke of the cello, Ed dips Oswald daringly low, steals a kiss before he can even take a breath, and swiftly tugs him upright again. Oswald steadies himself against his husband with a burning blush and a giggle. How incredible, how _romantic,_ that after four years of marriage, Ed can still surprise him in such a way.

Oswald watches his husband’s gaze, deep and dark and desirous as it drags from his eyes to his lips. He’s seen that look many times and it sets him ablaze. Ed catches his hand, fingers latching onto him like spider legs, and he draws Oswald’s arm out and kisses frenziedly from his fingertips to his collarbone. Oswald tilts his head, eyes drifting shut, and he allows himself to be worshiped under Ed’s lips and his hurried words of praise.

“You still desire me after all these years? The old ball and chain?”

“Forever, _mon amour,_ ” Ed breathes against his throat.

“I’ll get them-”

“Ahem,” chirps a voice, and Oswald reluctantly opens one eye to see Barbara, dressed in an obnoxiously pink and sparkly gown, giving him a little wave. Ed places one last deliberate kiss to the back of Oswald’s hand before even acknowledging their guests. They’ll have to continue _that_ later.

“Barbara, how wonderful of you to come. Doctor Thompkins,” Oswald nods towards her wife Lee, who looks much more reasonable in a tasteful midnight blue evening dress.

“Ozzie,” Barbara releases Lee’s arm so she can take Oswald’s hands, “you know I couldn’t resist an invitation from you!”

“This is a beautiful home,” Lee pipes up cordially, her eyes glimmering as she scans the vaulted ceilings.

“Oh, kitten!” Barbara taps her wife’s cheek, “I forgot you’ve never been here before. Maybe Ozzie will give us the grand tour later?”

The prospect of showing off his and Ed’s dreadful mansion, with its long, dark corridors, its black, branching chandeliers, and its faded portraits on the walls, is strangely pleasing to Oswald. Perhaps part of his competitive streak, which ignited when Barbara led him around her own extravagant home. “I’d be delighted. And I’m sure Martin would simply love to show you his torture chamber,” he responds sweetly, “His little friends don’t seem to appreciate it as much as you would.”

Lee’s smile dissolves. “I’m sure,” Barbara coos, fluttering her lashes. She’s always been much more accustomed to Ed and Oswald’s macabre lifestyle than her wife. “Well, you certainly seem to be doing well for yourself, Ozzie. I just wish you’d visit me at the _Siren’s_ more often.”

Oswald flaps a hand. “Oh, you know me, Barbara. I’m just like any modern gangster trying to have it all. A loving husband, a family. How I wish I had more time to seek out the dark forces of this city and make them bend to my will. When the baby can walk, perhaps then.”

“Speaking of… have you decided on a name for the little one? Or are you sticking with ‘Unnamed Baby?’” Barbara arches a manicured eyebrow.

Ed hums. “Perhaps ‘Pubert.’”

Lee just barely manages to hide her snort of amusement behind her hand, and Barbara’s expression scrunches into something like disgust.

“ _Pubert?_ ” Lee squeaks between giggles.

“You can’t be serious.”

Oswald bites his lip to keep from giving away Ed’s trick. “It’s perfect for him. Simple,” he says with an innocent smile, his fingers tightening discreetly around the crook of his husband’s arm.

“Rolls right off the tongue. _Pubert Cobblepot-Nygma,_ ” Ed adds with a flourish.

There’s a squawk from across the ballroom followed by the crack of shattering glass. Barbara, nosy as ever, rises up onto her tiptoes in hopes of catching a glimpse of the action.

“We need to wrangle your mother,” Ed comments quietly, leaning into Oswald.

He hums. “She’s always like this at parties. And I’d rather she not drop my baby with all her flailing.”

“I agree. We just got him, after all.”

“Barbara, Lee, if you’ll please excuse us. Mother,” Oswald announces loudly, hoping to catch her scrambled attention as they cross the room, “I’ll take the baby.”

“But my little Kapelput, we are dancing,” she sighs happily, and she wobbles precariously as she attempts to twirl. Ed throws his arms out to hold her and save the child from taking a tumble.

There are several empty glasses scattered about the table behind her, some tipped over. “The party is ending, and it’s past the children’s bedtime. Have you seen Martin?” Oswald carefully extracts the baby from her arms, and is quite relieved that his son has been so thoroughly rocked to sleep by Gertrud’s erratic dancing that he doesn’t stir as he settles into Oswald’s embrace.

Clearly having sipped too much wine, Gertrud flourishes her arms and continues to sway to some silent music, her long pearl necklaces swinging wildly. “Oh, let them stay!” she pleads, her eyes falling closed in drunken bliss.

“The children need to go to bed, Mother. Where is Martin?”

“He hasn’t run off to the graveyard again, has he?” Ed asks, that fond yet scolding lilt creeping into his voice.

“ _A konyha._ ”

“The kitchen,” Oswald says immediately, “If that child eats any more sugar, all his teeth will fall out.”

Ed brushes the back of his hand and gestures to the ballroom doors, where Olga is wheeling in a large, covered serving tray. _Of course._

“A troublemaker, just like his father,” Oswald mutters as they meander through the dwindling crowd. With a far too pleased grin, Ed lifts the silver lid off the tray to reveal their son, who has curled up among the remnants of some decadent chocolate dessert.

“How sweet,” Oswald whispers, pressing a hand to his heart, “He looks just like a little entrée.”

Ed sweeps some crumbs from Martin’s hair and delicately scoops him up into his arms, although all of the festivities and confections seem to have put their boy into a very deep slumber. With Gertrud in tow, Ed and Oswald bid their goodbyes and carry their two children upstairs, up to bed. Olga will see the rest of their guests out if she has to violently wave a broom at them to do so.

They urge Gertrud into her bedroom first, Oswald attempting to cradle his baby in both arms while also nudging her through the doorway with his elbow and coaxing her in Hungarian. After some reasoning from both Ed and Oswald, Gertrud finally dances lazily to her bed.

Next they visit the nursery, the room in which Oswald’s heart still seizes as he recalls how Ed poured hours into decorating the perfect place for a child. He tucks their baby into his crib, and each parent drops a kiss to his pale cheeks before leaving him to dream under his mobile of knives.

They reach Martin’s room. As Ed gingerly lays the sleeping boy onto his bed and pulls the covers over him, Oswald pushes open the heavy velvet curtains to let the moonlight in. It’s always healthier to rest shrouded in the darkness of night, Oswald thinks. He and Ed press kisses into Martin’s curly hair and whisper their goodnight wishes before finally returning to their own bedroom.

They throw open their curtains to bring the night in and undress in silence, shedding their beautiful ballroom clothing and replacing it with silk nightwear.

“That went wonderfully, don’t you think?” Oswald asks as he buttons his pajama shirt.

“Swimmingly!” Ed chirps, running his fingers through his gelled hair to loosen the strands and consequently distracting Oswald for a moment. How handsome he is.

“The children certainly had fun.”

A smile warms Ed’s face. “They’ll sleep well tonight.”

Something about that terribly cozy image of his children, all tired from the evening’s celebration, snuggled in their beds under the watchful eyes of the rats and the spiders (and perhaps the spirit of his own father), makes his heart ache with fondness. “They’ll sleep like the dead,” he adds affectionately as he takes a seat at his makeup vanity.

He reaches for his mascara and sweeps just a little more over his lashes, then dusts a touch more dark eyeshadow around his eyes. Should he somehow die in his sleep, he’d like to leave a pretty corpse. His reflection gazes back at him in the mirror, pale and gaunt and lovely, and he sets his brushes aside, pleased.

“How lucky I am.”

Oswald turns and rises as he slips on his lace dressing gown, a resplendent gift from Ed. “Hmm?”

“I’m unworthy of such splendor, undeserving of such radiance!” Ed crosses the room, clasps his hand and kisses it, and Oswald’s heart takes flight. “My Oswald… I will worship you forever. I’ll devote my every waking moment to you, to your happiness, to our children.”

“Oh, Ed,” Oswald gasps, tears flooding his eyes, “Ed, _kedvesem._ ”

“ _Mon amour,_ ” Ed soothes, bringing him into his arms, “I am your eternal and helpless slave.”

A giggle bubbles up in Oswald’s chest. “Promise?”

“Always. I’ll do anything and everything for you.”

Ed leans down as Oswald leans up, and their lips meet, first as soft as velvet, then as amorous and passionate as red-hot flame. Oswald is sure he’ll never catch his breath again, and even more so when Ed’s hands slip over him, around him.

Oswald kisses him and kisses him and _kisses him_ until he feels himself being tipped back, Ed’s hold on him firm and reverent, and somehow he feels closer than ever. And they continue to embrace each other, as they will for all of eternity, under the glow of the moonlight against an endless night sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading :)

**Author's Note:**

> "egymásnak szántuk" translates to "intended for each other" and "Igen" means "yes" :)


End file.
